


Jaskier Should Really Listen To Geralt

by eccentrick



Series: Witcher Ficlets [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Major Character Injury, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Strangulation, but he doesn't, jaskier needs to listen to geralt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentrick/pseuds/eccentrick
Summary: ...but he doesn't.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992151
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This was a writing warm-up I did yesterday that ended up being more than a warm-up. Please enjoy! I'd really appreciate comments and kudos, it really motivates me and tells me when I'm going in the right directions. 
> 
> Y'all can send Witcher prompts my way at my tumblr @ecccentrick, with three C's! I'd be happy to have them.

The sun was just sinking when they came across a hamlet. It was so small that it didn’t have a proper name, but big enough to have a notice board that announced grievances and inquiries from all the surrounding civilization. 

Geralt went directly towards the said notice board, leading Roach by her reins as the street was too small to safely ride through without trampling one of the villagers. At this point, Jaskier hadn’t a care whether villagers got squashed, his feet ached so. He glared half-hardheartedly at the back of Geralt’s big head, counting the _horrid_ tangles in his hair to pass the time. 

"Geralt! This hamlet hasn’t even a true tavern! How am I supposed to make coin if there isn’t even a place to drink?”

Without turning around, Geralt said, “So you admit it?”

Jaskier wrinkled his nose, something he only truly did in Geralt’s presence, since he didn’t want to develop fine lines, nor draw attention to the very few that were already there. 

“Admit what?”

“That drink has to loosen pockets for you to get any coin.”

“Ah-wha- G-GERALT!” Jaskier sputtered. So distracted was he, that his boots found a puddle, splashing mud all up his new trousers. 

He already hated this cursed town.

\--

Turned out that the hamlet housed more people than previously thought; or at least it had, before the attacks. 

“We just don’t know what to do,” cried one villager, her blonde hair coming free from her bun. She looked to be in middle years, despite having been the parent of a small child. But, then again, tragedy aged folks, Jaskier had found. 

“Tell me all you can,” Geralt said, for what had to be the third time. The woman was in hysterics, not that anyone could blame her. She had just lost a child. 

“Well, we’s find them -- the bodies, sir witcher, that is -- in the roads or the fields. They’s seem unharmed, but for a bite or two, barely any blood around. Like whatever’s come taken their life for sport. We’s almost feel better if they’s been taken for food, so as not much of a waste,” said the alderman, an arm around the grieving woman. It did nothing to console her, her body wracked with sobs. “Wish wha’ever this beast is, it’d spare the youngin’s and take us old folk.”

Jaskier felt a little awkward that he was still there, but they had accosted Geralt before he even had the chance to completely read the notices on the board. So, taking his chance, he sidled up a little closer, trying to hear all the details. 

“What did the bodies look like? Have you buried them all?”

The woman wept even harder, but managed to say, “No, our girl was just found this mornin’. You can go -- go have a look. If...If you think it wise, sir witcher.” 

Geralt nodded before looking to Jaskier. Well, that was his queue to leave. He didn’t want to see a child’s dead body, anyhow. The poor thing.

\--

Jaskier made himself at home at the only inn in the hamlet. Calling it an inn was generous, as it had two rooms and a cot that could be used in the kitchen. At least it had a few stools and a table in the main room, and served watered down ale.

It felt too somber for him to play anything, so he sat down at the only table and ate dinner, sipping at the surprisingly good ale. He’d have to make sure Geralt had some before they left, which could take some time, apparently. The beast was eluding the witcher, of course, but for the first time that Jaskier can remember, Geralt didn’t know what it was, exactly. He had his suspicions, Jaskier could tell, but he wouldn’t speak of them. 

The witcher looked grumpier than usual when he left, with a warning for Jaskier to, under _no_ circumstances, to leave the inn during the night. The beast only attacked at night, and Jaskier was to have zero dalliances that night. Jaskier snorted. If only the witcher knew that there hadn’t been many _dalliances_ of late. And may he never know the reason why.

It was getting late when Jaskier decided he needed to get some sleep, the full moon illuminating the inn so brightly that there was hardly any need for torches and lanterns, when a man sat across from him, two mugs of ale in his hands. 

“Care for a drink?” the fellow asked. 

Jaskier examined the man. He was around the bard’s age (which shall never be fully confirmed) with bright red hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He had a smirk on his face that didn’t quite sit well with Jaskier, but he was attractive enough for him to take the free drink. 

“You come with the witcher?” the man asked, taking a sip from his cup.

“I did. I am his bard, the great Jaskier, top graduate of Oxenfurt Academy. Perhaps you’ve heard a few of my songs? A ballad or two?”

The man nodded. “Heard your song about coins and witchers. Mighty catchy. Say, is your witcher truly as noble as you claim?”

Jaskier’s leg began to bounce in excitement. Finally! Someone who wanted to hear his opinions, and about his favorite topic at that!

They talked for a long while, Jaskier catching and hitting all of his queues. The man soon reached across and sat his hand on the bard’s knee, slowly sliding up to his thigh. A zing of another type of excitement went through him, and any rules set upon him flew out the window. Besides, he wouldn't be leaving the inn, so no rules would be broken.

“Want to go upstairs?”

The stranger nodded. “Thought you’d never ask.”

\--

Now. Jaskier is aware that, when it comes to men, he has a type. He can (mostly) admit it. They have to be big, and burly, and able to throw him over their shoulder, or perhaps toss him here and there, just a bit. 

The red head didn’t quite fit this standard. He was more on the lithe side, and his hair was cut close to his head. But he smelt clean, was a little taller than Jaskier, and still on the broader side. Beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.

Jaskier quickly rid himself of his doublet and chemise, neatly folding them on the provided chest. The other man followed his example, and was soon down to his smalls. 

Sitting on the bed, Jaskier laid onto his back. “Hm, now how does the handsome man want me?”

The red head smirked, like he enjoyed looking down on the bard. A trickle of trepidation slithered up Jaskier’s spine.

“You sure I won’t be intruding on another man’s property?”

“I’m no one’s property,” Jaskier said, “Least of all Geralt’s. Are we going to get on with it, then, hm?”

The man complied, trailing his large hands down Jaskier’s chest, avoiding his nipples, before resting firmly on his stomach. He stood at the edge of the bed, over Jaskier, and went still. Inhumanly still. He stared straight into the bard’s eyes, eyes preternaturally hungry. 

Jaskier fidgeted, making as though to get up. The red head’s hand now felt like steel as he pushed him down, pinning him in place. 

Now, Jaskier was not one to kink shame, or shame others in general, but the look in the man’s eyes was not of lust, nor even depraved want. He was looking at Jaskier like he was a five course meal. 

“Why is it that you smell so youthful?” the man finally said, breaking the silence. 

Jaskier laughed awkwardly, trying not to be flattered in spite of the situation. “I’m forever young at heart, I suppose?”

The man hummed, leaning forward, nosing at Jaskier’s neck. He felt himself getting slightly aroused despite the fact that the way the man lingered was not erotic in the slightest, more akin to trying to find the best place to take the first blissful, sweet bite. 

It was then that Jaskier realized that Geralt would not find the monster anywhere under the full moon. It was right there, in the room with him. And it’s next victim was going to be Jaskier.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! I wrote this all almost in one sitting, and I don't have a beta right now so I apologize for any mistakes or inconsistencies. I really appreciate any comments or kudos sent my way, so let me know if y'all enjoy it. I'm adding another chapter because I don't have the patience to sit on this and I wanted extra h/c in the last one.

Jaskier had many talents. He could sing, write, dance, play multiple instruments, and was something of a scholar, if did say so himself. But one talent that was known but was hardly spoken of in polite company was the one that was going to get him out of this situation alive. 

He was going to slut it up.

Making himself relax back into the bed, he slid one of his hands through the monster’s thick hair, humming as though content with the current state of things. The creature’s hand of steel relaxed minutely against Jaskier’s stomach and he forced himself not to take a shuddering breath, instead breathing from his diaphragm. 

“So you’re one of those, huh?” Jaskier asked, letting his voice go slightly rough. 

The monster stiffened. 

“Of what?”

Jaskier widened his legs. The beast nestled deeper between them, his whole upper body splaying across Jaskier’s. He tried not to take that as the threat it surely was. 

Turning his head so that his lips brushed against the monster’s ear at every syllable, he said, “Hm, one of those men who enjoys roleplay of the, uh, should I say, _unconventional_ sort? Can’t say I’ve come across too many, but I’m always willing to give things a try.”

The beast pulled back from Jaskier’s neck to stare into his eyes, like he was going to ask if Jaskier was truly that dumb and horny. And Jaskier could hear Geralt’s reply in his mind, _yes_. 

Wait. Geralt.

Shit.

Okay, so Jaskier had a new idea. He wouldn’t just deescalate the situation like previously planned, stall until Geralt came back empty handed and frustrated. Jaskier would actually have to save himself this time. And, now that he thought about it, the rest of the residents of the inn. 

He was beginning to realize why Geralt was so crotchety all the damn time.

Something in the monster’s eyes changed, a dawning understanding and anticipation. It was feral and raw and Jaskier met it with one of his own, shifting his hips up. He almost had it. 

With one hand still in its hair, he trailed the other up its torso, gently touching its sides, before getting to its shoulder blades, fingertips clenching the muscle and bone there, digging his fingernails in hard enough that if it were a human, there would surely be marks left behind. 

“What is it you have in mind?” The beast slurred his words, despite having only one watered down ale that evening. 

The hand holding Jaskier down raised up, higher and higher, until it came around his neck, a soft shackle. His heart beat double time, and he sucked in a breath that he could still blessedly take, for now. 

His mind blanked for a few seconds, because, to be completely honest, this beast was hitting all of Jaskier’s buttons. If this man were a human, they would surely get up to some great fun. Jaskier couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Geralt. Geralt leaning over him, Geralt holding him down, Geralt’s calloused and scarred hand around his neck, holding him in place, stealing his breath. 

Without having the feign a moan, Jaskier said, “Well, why don’t you chase me?” he dug his nails in deeper. “Capture me. Hunt me down.”

The beast sucked in a harsh breath and Jaskier knew he had him, once and for all. Better or for worse. 

“Perhaps I should give you a head start?” the monster asked. “But you’d have to be quiet, not wake anyone up. Wouldn’t want anyone to be in the crosshairs of a hunt, now would you?”

\--

The creaking of the stairs almost did him in. 

The innkeeper had muted the lights in the dining area, leaving them only bright enough to cast shadows and create a sense of unease. Or perhaps that was because he had a beast after him, coming for his blood. Literally. 

He tried to move quietly. The steps creaked. That small sound, so inconsequential, made him realize all that was at stake. The innkeeper, who now most likely slept in the kitchen so her guests could have the rooms, the father and child that were staying in the room next to his, and the orange cat that liked to slink around guests' ankles...their lives were all in jeopardy, and only Jaskier being a good little lamb to slaughter might save them.

What the beast didn’t know was that the lamb intended to lead it to its end. 

He opened the door slowly, silently. Fresh air filled his lungs, crisp and cool. The moon was high in the sky, lighting the way for Jaskier, his socked feet kicking up dust as he went from a slow creep to a desperate sprint in a span of seconds. 

The village was close to a forest, and knowing it was the best place for cover, Jaskier ran for it. Once treetops came overhead, he stopped for a quick breather and to orient himself. 

Geralt always told Jaskier what direction he’d be going in on any hunt. It wasn’t always that way; the bard searching and finding an overdosed witcher next to a dead leshen after he failed to arrive back at the tavern set that to rights. Luckily Jaskier had memorized Geralt’s potions long ago, or he’d be dead and buried. 

Geralt had told him he was heading southwest, which was. . .which way was it? He was fucked, wasn’t he? And not even by a deathless death like all scandalous bards want to go out. 

“Okay, let’s see. Eeny, meene, miny. . .moe! This way then.” 

He dashed in that direction, heading deeper into the woods. He ran until his legs burned, until the wagon roads gave way to deer tracks, until there was nothing but trees, brush and silence. Not even an owl dared to hoot. The monster was here coming for him. 

Jaskier took a deep breath, filling his lungs to their capacity. And then, in that creepy quiet, he screamed. 

“GERALT! GERALT! GERALLLT IT’S AFTER MEEEE!” 

Waiting only a beat, Jaskier continued his flight. There was no sign of the grumpy witcher, and he just gave away his ruse. Perhaps the fear had addled his mind. He should’ve been sneakier, hid in a hollow tree stump, or something. Taken his perfume bottle with him and doused a trail of potent fragrance behind each step. But, then, the monster could follow that too. Hell, even a particularly observant human would’ve been able to trace him; he always bought the strong stuff. 

“DAMMIT!”

He was soon lost, hopelessly and completely. The lights from the village had long since dimmed and he didn’t know which way was the way back. At least if the monster got to him, the others might be spared until Geralt could find it and kill it. His death wouldn’t be in vain. Perhaps he’d even become a local hero. 

A branch to his left cracked. A rustling, then a growl. Footsteps, and then the monster revealed himself, moving from shadows and into the moonlight. It was a great entrance, the bard had to give him that. Points for the dramatics. At the very least, Jaskier wouldn’t die a boring death. 

“It’s as I thought. You were running to your witcher. I’d be angry, but that’ll make this more interesting.”

Jaskier grit his teeth. “You’re awfully arrogant for a monster in the sights of a witcher. The White Wolf. You’ll be dead by morning and Geralt and I will be walking the Path again.”

The beast came closer, his steps measured and sure. Suddenly, he was at Jaskier’s side, a hand at his delicate neck and another on his right shoulder. Back, back, back the monster pushed him, until he hit the nearest tree, bark digging into his exposed neck. He squeezed Jaskier’s neck, bringing a wheeze from the bard’s lips.

“Why. . .” the hand tightened and the longing to cough almost made him gag, “Why me?” 

“Because of your blood, it smells so rare, so fine. None of these backwater hicks taste of anything but the dirt under my boots. But you. . .such fresh nectar.”

“Th-That’s a little insulting,” he took a harsh gulp of air, and it whistled in his throat. “That you- only - wanted me - my blood - not my - da-dashing good-”

“Enough, Jaskier. Save your breath.”

“G-Ger-”

His back, once against rough bark, was now against a hard chest. And there was that band of steel around his neck. Air fought to get into his lungs, and his voice demanded to be heard but he couldn’t talk, couldn’t make the words form on his lips. Eyes bulged and the skin of his face heated. He was being strangled, and instead of a thoughtless tumor it was at the will of someone who chose to steal his breath until he had none left. 

Soft hands tore against steel. Feet dug into earth, kicked and scrambled, never meeting anything solid besides the ground. Reason fled his mind, and he was just a vessel. A vessel that wanted free. 

“Jaskier, stay calm!” Geralt’s voice reached his ears, echoing. Oh, there was still some hope. He might survive. 

“So I see that you’re a coward,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier was about to be offended until the beast spoke. 

“You’re trying to appeal to my ego. You do care for this bard, then?” 

Geralt was all wobbly and misty, like he was made of liquid bones. His eyes were black, veins a dark gray. Jaskier tried to squint, rapidly blink, but he wouldn’t stay put, wouldn’t go back to normal. 

His throat ached. 

“Let the bard go. He played his part of the bait, now let him go and we can end this. You...you hunt and kill the weak and expect not to be confronted? Take a hostage, a meat shield. Pathetic and cowardly.” 

“I don’t think I’m going to do that. I’m probably all of those things, now that I think about it, and I don’t rightly care. Now, can’t you see I’m celebrating a holiday? The moon is full.”

“Higher vampire. Shit.”

The vampire laughed and that’s when things got fuzzy for Jaskier. He wanted to come out of his skin, wanted to be able to see clearly. His heart felt like it wanted to gallop out of his chest and race Roach. 

“You know what? I’ll just save this for later.”

A prickling sensation started at his side and spread, tendrils of numbness. It quickly became a burning feeling and with it came air, blessed air. The ground met his body. The steel band was gone.

He took a few moments to catch his breath. Each gulp of air felt like swallowing hot coals, his lungs screaming. Once clarity disrupted the fog over Jaskier’s mind he trailed a shaking hand to his side. It came back sticky with blood. He glanced up and saw the vampire lick long, protruding claw-like nails.

In the wise words of Geralt of Rivia, _fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I haven't encountered any higher vampires in witcher 3 yet so I'm going mostly on the wiki. and I might've made them sexier because that's what i'm about~~
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed! My writing blog is @ eccentrick-ramblings

**Author's Note:**

> I take witcher and loz prompts @ ecccentrick on tumblr!


End file.
